


Distraction

by my_angry_angel



Category: Assassin's Creed
Genre: Anal Sex, Comfort Sex, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-03
Updated: 2013-05-03
Packaged: 2017-12-10 06:43:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/782999
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/my_angry_angel/pseuds/my_angry_angel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Desmond is depressed about being stuck in the Animus and hearing his fellow Assassin's talking about him. Clay decides to cheer him up.<br/>Mention of Shaun/Desmond</p>
            </blockquote>





	Distraction

The soft sound of waves lapping against the shore brought Desmond to his senses. He blinked his eyes open, trying to remember what he’d been doing as Ezio. The more time he spent in the Animus, the more his mind fragmented, which made it harder and harder to remember things. But after a moment, it came to him.

He’d been sliding down a zipline, trying to escape from some soldiers after assassinating a target, when suddenly everything went dark. He couldn’t even tell how much time had passed between then and waking up in the middle of the island.

As he sat up, a sound behind him brought him wheeling around, hands poised to draw weapons that weren’t there. But it was just Sixteen, shaking his head. “Tsk tsk, Desmond. Snooping again.”

Desmond stood slowly. “I wasn’t snooping, I was exploring the city.” He rubbed at his eyes, which still felt dry from the wind blowing in his face while he rode the zipline. Ezio! He thought angrily. While Ezio rode the zipline. He stood with his eyes closed for several seconds until he separated himself from the Italian.

When he opened his eyes to talk to Sixteen again, the other assassin was gone. He turned in a quick circle, looking for him, but Sixteen was gone. A soft sigh heaved from his chest, and Desmond started walking. Lately, he’d taken to talking about his kills; it made it easier to remember that it wasn’t him. But when he talked to himself, he could almost feel his mind fragmenting. So that was out.

Thinking about it did little to help ease his mind, but walking seemed to make thinking a little more beneficial. So he shoved his hands in his pocket and started circling the island. Before he’d gone very far, Sixteen spoke from behind him. “Don’t think too hard, now. Fragile as your mind is, you wouldn’t want to break it.”

Desmond spun around to face him. He was sure the other man hadn’t been there when he passed. He took a moment to regain his composure, then gave him a half-hearted glare. “Well, if someone wouldn’t disappear right when I need to talk…” he let the sentence hang as he turned and started away again.

After only a few steps, Sixteen appeared in front of him. “Desmond, I’m part of this whole place. Whether you can see me or not, I’m here.”

“That’s not creepy or anything,” Desmond muttered as he brushed past the other man, going to with his back to a rock. Sixteen followed, and after a moment of silence, Desmond started talking. At first, he referred to everything in the first person. “I didn’t think I could get close enough…I tried to get out of there fast, but someone saw me kill him…” But then he started gradually talking about Ezio instead of himself, the pronouns coming easier as he talked. Sixteen listened to it all without a word.

After he finished talking about the assassination, Desmond’s monologue turned to Shaun. Before he got stuck here, he and Shaun had been kinda-somewhat-not-really dating. It had helped Desmond retain his sanity; any experience that Ezio never had helped really, but making love to Shaun had been so…intimate. Desmond had almost decided to tell Shaun how he felt before all this happened.

After hearing how the Brit talked about him, he was glad he hadn’t told him.

It wasn’t until Clay wiped a tear from Desmond’s cheek that the assassin even knew he was crying. The blond wrapped his arms around Desmond’s body, who hugged him in return. They sat like that for several minutes before Sixteen finally whispered, “Must be nice, being able to remember people you’ve dated.”

Desmond pulled back a little, looking sheepish. “Sorry, didn’t mean to--“

“It’s fine,” Sixteen interrupted. “Can’t miss them if I can’t remember them.” Desmond nodded, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. “Now how can I cheer you up? Need you happy if you’re ever going to find a sync nexus and get out of here.”

Desmond shrugged lamely. “I’m fine. Just need to stop talking about him.” Sixteen nodded, then quickly leaned in and pressed his lips to Desmond’s temple. The assassin’s breath hitched at that and he looked over to the blond, his eyes wide. “Wh-what are you doing?”

“Helping you take your mind off of him.” He leaned closer and pressed his lips to Desmond’s. After a moment, Desmond started kissing him back. Sixteen may have just been a program, but damn, the man could kiss.

The kiss grew more and more passionate until Desmond started trying to lay the other man back, one hand fumbling at the button on his jeans. Sixteen finally pulled away, guilt flashing in his eyes. Desmond tried to kiss him again, but Sixteen gripped at his shoulders, holding him away. “We shouldn’t,” he whispered. “You have a boyfriend.”

Desmond waved his hand vaguely. “You’ve heard what he said about me. Why should I owe him any loyalty?”

Sixteen kissed his forehead and sat up. “He’s just scared and upset. Just watch, when you get out of here, he’ll take back everything he said and you two will go back to being a happy couple.”

Desmond sat up as well, looking away. “I hope so.” He leaned in again and pressed his lips to Clay’s in a quick kiss. “Besides, this isn’t really happening,” he said after he pulled back. “It’s all in the Animus, remember?” Without waiting for the other man to reply, Desmond kissed him again, a passionate mashing of lips and teeth. It took Clay a moment to respond, but when he did, it was with even more fervor than Desmond. This time, he allowed himself to be pushed back, and didn’t protest when the younger man shoved his hand down his jeans.

“Desmond,” he gasped when that hand found his dick and started pumping slowly. Even before his death, it had been a long time since anyone else had touched him, since before he’d infiltrated Abstergo he was sure. His body was quick to respond, his cock beginning to harden as he arched up against Desmond.

“Mmm, someone’s a little eager,” Desmond murmured. With his free hand, he unbuttoned Clay’s outer shirt, then slid his hand up his tee shirt, rubbing gently. Sixteen lifted his torso enough to slip out of both shirts before laying back on the grass. Desmond sat up and started removing his own clothing, obviously pleased to see the slight bulge in the front of Clay’s jeans before Sixteen wriggled out of them. As soon as they were both bare, Desmond leaned down and started kissing his way down the other man’s neck, then his chest and stomach. Lower and lower until finally...

“Desmond!” he cried as the other man started sucking his dick. He was reduced to inarticulate sounds of bliss as the younger man lavished attention on his cock. Desmond reached up and shoved two fingers into Clay’s mouth. Some base instinct told him to suck, and the younger man didn’t pull his hand away when he started, so it looked like he was right.

It wasn’t long before Desmond pulled his fingers away, and Clay could feel him shudder gently a second later. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the younger man was fingering himself, stretching himself. Time, already skewed in the Animus, lost all meaning. Seconds melted into hours, minutes compressed into seconds; none of it mattered. All Clay could bring himself to care about was the wet heat on his cock, the way Desmond bucked and moaned as he stretched himself.

Finally, Desmond pulled back and looked up, giving the older man a dark, lustful look. He crawled up and positioned himself over Clay’s cock, slick with spit and precum. With a soft groan, he sank down, his asshole spasming as he pushed onto the older man’s dick. Clay groaned and arched his back, pushing deeper into the other man.

It had been way too long, and the pace Desmond set was agonizingly slow. “Faster,” Clay growled; there was only so much he could do while lying on the ground.

“No,” Desmond panted back. “I like watching your face when I go slow...I’m driving you wild.” Clay gave a few more half-hearted attempts at bucking up into the younger man before he finally lost his patience. He pulled Desmond down for a desperate kiss; while the other man was leaned down, Sixteen rolled suddenly so he was on top. He broke the kiss and started pounding into Desmond.

The younger man gave a loud cry of pained bliss, his arms and legs wrapping around Clay, clinging to him. Sixteen braced his feet as best as he could, giving him even more leverage as he slammed into Desmond. Des buried his face in Clay’s shoulder, giving constant cries, both wordless and of, “Yes!”

He didn’t know how long he’d been at it when Desmond’s cries became more desperate, his body tightening on Clay’s cock. That tightness made Sixteen’s head spin, and it was all he could do to keep moving. Sometime later--it was still doing that weird thing where it was both stretched out and compressed--he felt Desmond’s whole body tense up as he came between their bodies. The sudden tightness pushed Clay over the edge and he spilled within the other man with a wordless cry. They lay together in a tangle of bare limbs for what felt like hours before Clay finally pulled out, drawing a grunt from the younger man.

“Remind me to use more spit next time,” Desmond said sleepily. All Clay could do was laugh, his body disappearing in a flurry of pixels.


End file.
